


aftermath of summer

by Anonymous



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Gen, M/M, POV Richie Tozier, Post-First Battle with Pennywise (IT), Pre-Slash, Richie Tozier's Internalized Homophobia, richie tozier's overall terrible self-image if we're being real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28465932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The fucking clown hadn’t told him a damn thing he didn’t already know about himself.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47
Collections: Anonymous





	aftermath of summer

**Author's Note:**

> Probably set in the same universe as [this.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28458591)  
> I'm not sure, either.

He picks at his scabs, undoes the frayed wool on his jumper. Hears the fucking clown’s voice in the corners of Derry, always, it’s with him, the aftermath of the summer, the fear, everything cumulatively building up. _Richie,_ the grating voice in his ears. _Want a kiss?_

It doesn’t matter what he does; he feels filthy. He looks in the mirror and he sees a failure, sees Eddie’s broken arm and big brown doe-like eyes. He sees the summer, and in the aftermath of the summer –

Most of them have learnt to be brave. There’s a lightness to Bev, a sort of energy and fierceness that comes with the territory. She’s a survivor and she knows it and she wears it like a badge of honour, her smiles tinged with power. Eddie, too, is finally out from under the control of his mother, and while the potential illnesses and disease of the world still scares him, he’s brave now, he’s doing his best not to let it hurt him. Mike, as well, walks with his head held high. Ben’s got a quiet, noticeable confidence, now.

But then there’s him, and Bill, and Stan. Bill doesn’t talk about it, but Richie knows he’s still grieving Georgie, knows that he blames himself over it, as well, knows that he’ll likely never really stop. Stan had worried the most out of them when they hadn’t seen the things worth worrying about – now that they’ve survived Pennywise, it’s clear that even though there’s an abundance of joy amongst the Losers, Stan’s still holding on to something.

And there’s Richie.

The fucking clown hadn’t told him a damn thing he didn’t already know about himself.

Namely: _gross, dirty, unlovable, you will never get what you want, Richie. You’ll never get what you want, and there’s something wrong with you, for wanting. For being the way that you are. Do you think boys like you get happy endings, Richie?_ (he doesn’t.)

And the worst one, the worst one of the lot. _How do you think Eddie would feel, if he knew?_

Eddie can’t possibly know, which is why they share that hammock, which is why he still leans on Richie’s shoulder while they’re watching movies at the clubhouse, why sometimes he idly holds Richie’s hand, why he’s traced the shape of Richie’s wrist with his fingers. Eddie always looks at Richie first when he says something, before looking at the other Losers, even. Eddie laughs at all his jokes, even the ones that aren’t funny. Eddie – sweet, wonderful, asshole Eddie – is his best friend.

Richie wants Eddie in every possible way a person can want someone. He wants Eddie’s arms around him, Eddie’s body pressed against him, Eddie’s hands in his, Eddie sharing the bed with him, waking up to Eddie, being able to kiss him, his face and his cheeks and his mouth and the sides of his body where he’s most ticklish, to be able to share his sweaters and carry him in his arms and to be able to love him, love him freely and without fear, love him wholly and entirely, to be able to look at Eddie and _know_ that Eddie knew how deeply and unconditionally and firmly and gently he was loved.

Because Eddie deserved a love like that. Just, not from Richie Trashmouth Tozier.

“You’ve seemed sad, lately,” Eddie tells Richie, one of those days.

“Oh, yeah?” Richie smiles, flustered and awkward, flattered that Eddie had noticed, but ashamed, too.

“Blame the fucking clown,” he says. He does not say, _I’m in love with you. Know that it’s not predatory. That I’d never hurt you. That I never want to make you uncomfortable. You’re my best friend, and I love you, and that’s why I’m sad, because you deserve better, better, better. You’re the protagonist, Eddie Kaspbrak, and I’m the fucking comic relief character, but I love you. How could I ever be anything but sad? I’m not supposed to feel this way._

“If that clown ever shows up again, reincarnation or rebirth or like, if it’s had clown-spawn, or if there are more things like it, I’ll kill it,” Eddie says, something in his expression that’s harsh and venomous, almost. “If anything dares to hurt you, they’ll have to get through me, first.”

“I know,” Richie says, softly. Eddie wraps his arms around Richie ( _would he still hold you if he Knew, Richie? Would HE?_ ) and Richie allows himself to be selfish, leans into the embrace. “You’ve always taken such good care of me, Eds,” he says, softly.

**Author's Note:**

> Again: might write more, we'll see. Might make this a series, or something like that, depending on where it goes.


End file.
